


Stay Free, Don't Go

by romashka



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Lima Syndrome, Pyromania, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 19:04:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7945705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romashka/pseuds/romashka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maxwell realises he has sympathy for Willow. But maybe not enough to let her escape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay Free, Don't Go

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Gerard Way's song 'No Shows'. It's such a contradictory phrase that's not easy to completely understand, and that's why I thought it was a good representation of what Maxwell feels in this, even though the rest of the song isn't really relevant.

Maxwell had taken a liking to Willow. Not desire, goodness, no – she was far too young for him, and he was well aware what a sinister figure he must have seemed to her even without any of those motivations. Besides, the woefully unresolved business with Charlie rather prevented him from being romantically inclined toward anyone else. All the same, he found himself becoming increasingly attached to Willow, more than any of the other survivors. There was something about her nature that appealed to him, that made him want to reveal his presence, as he so rarely could, in order to speak with her. 

He remembered her reaction when she’d first arrived. She was bewildered, of course, frightened, as they all were – but she was overtaken with a kind of wild joy in her solitude. He remembered her laughing, skipping, leaving a trail of shouted obscenities in her wake just because she could, just because there was nobody to tell her what to do any more. From what he knew of her old life it had been terribly hard, and she’d ended up in a mental institution not long after leaving the orphanage in which she’d grown up. That was why it had been so easy to tempt her with the promise of a new world. Even now, having experienced so many of the horrible things that this place could throw at her – that he could throw at her – she retained a defiant optimism that quite amazed him.  


That wasn’t to say it didn’t infuriate him too. This world whose every mechanism he’d meticulously crafted was like a playground to her. She revelled in its destruction, setting fires wherever she pleased with that lighter of hers. She would do so much damage so quickly, with no finesse, and he could see the glee in her eyes while she did it. She crowned herself in flowers and declared herself queen of the wilderness. And she really was skilled at survival. What she’d learned as a Girl Scout served her well, and what’s more, Maxwell knew she was no stranger to hunger and cold, or to being preyed upon by creatures from her own mind.  


Increasingly, he realised he was favouring her in his actions. He didn’t relish toying with her and killing her as he did the others. He wanted her to live, or at least live longer. He’d tip the odds in her favour, even though she’d shown she didn’t need it. He’d set down useful things for her to pick up. Moggles, a winter hat, even a fire staff – how she’d loved that one. She’d used it up within a day, to the detriment of a nearby pig village and several spider dens. If she was weak, he’d send fewer hounds. On one occasion he diverted a pack of hounds entirely, sending the confused beasts baying after a Koalefant instead and leaving her untouched.  


Soon, though, he realised what a mistake this was. He noticed with shock that she’d gathered all four pieces of the Wooden Thing and was determinedly searching for the portal. She couldn’t know where it would take her, and in fact neither did he, exactly, but he knew it would take her somewhere beyond his control. Maxwell suddenly became certain that he couldn’t let Willow go. He had to keep her here. He’d miss her. There was nobody else like her.  


He was usually content with his formula for guarding the portal. One rook, two knights, two bishops; but in this moment he could take no risks. As she approached, with mental exertion he spawned another rook, and another. He had them all charge her at once. She ran for her life in the direction of a Beefalo herd, hoping they could weaken the rooks enough for her to take them on. _Clever girl._ But of course the rooks were too fast for her, and she was trampled to death in seconds.  


Willow reawakened with nothing, with the lay of the land changed and the pieces of the Wooden Thing safely scattered across its breadth again. Maxwell didn’t appear to her, since he never did to anyone after the first time, but he could tell she knew he was watching. She dusted herself off and looked around with a steely glare that barely masked bitter disappointment at her failure. Sometimes after death she seemed to remember a lot from her previous attempt, and sometimes nothing, but now she clearly recalled what had just happened. “You bastard!” she shouted, her voice swallowed by the wind. “I know that wasn’t normal. I know you’re controlling what happens to me. I…I…this is no different from being back home at all! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” She ran blindly, as if she could get away from Maxwell’s watchful eye.  


She stumbled over a rock and fell to the ground hard. She was crying then, a hysterical howl at Maxwell and everything he had done. He could see she wasn’t badly hurt, but she didn’t get up. She just sat there wailing, with her face scratched and streaked with tears and her sanity rapidly draining. A pitiful sight.  


On the spur of the moment, Maxwell summoned the energy to manifest beside her. Shadows swirled around him as he appeared, causing Willow to look up in shock. Her breathing was ragged as she stared at him. After a moment she leapt to her feet and began to punch him, ineffectually, over and over.  


“Sweetheart,” he said, “I’m not even here. I can’t feel that.”  


Willow looked at her shaking fists and slowly lowered them. She was doing her best to look threatening, but being so much shorter than him, not to mention still struggling to hold back her tears, she was failing miserably. “Why are you here?” she demanded, trying to hold his gaze.  


“You seemed a little upset, and since I’ve grown quite fond of you I felt compelled to do something about it.”  


Willow sniffled. “Fond of me?”  


“Yes.”  


“Pedo.”  


“I’m not a paedophile, Willow. And I know you have some difficulties with acting your age, but you are an adult.”  


“Okay, fine. But you’re still really creepy.”  


“I can understand that.”  


“I find you really scary and I hate you.”  


“I know.”  


Willow gave him a shove, but ended up momentarily losing her own balance. “Can you leave?”  


Maxwell seemed to look through her. “Actually,” he said, “no. I can’t leave, any more than you can.”  


“What?”  


“Of course my position is very different from yours, but since I orchestrate this world I too am bound to it. You might say I was defeated by my own hubris.”  


Willow didn’t know what to say to that. “I don’t know what hubris means,” she said, which was true, though she thought she’d understood well enough anyway.  


“No, I’m sure you don’t, because you were more interested in burning your schoolbooks than opening them.”  


That wasn’t true. She’d opened them often, usually to rip out individual pages to burn separately.  


“Anyhow,” said Maxwell, “you seem to have stopped crying enough that you’re not in immediate danger of being torn to pieces by a Terrorbeak, and it’s taking considerable energy for me to continue projecting this form, so I suppose I will leave you to it.”  


“To what?” replied Willow. “Dying?”  


“Probably.” With that, Maxwell vanished as abruptly as he had appeared.  


Willow did die, a few more times. Freezing. The Deerclops. A particularly vicious frog. Maxwell still didn’t know for sure what would happen to her if she went through the portal. Maybe she would go to another world like this one, with another iteration of him. Maybe she would go back to her old life. Maybe she would die permanently, which would surely be a blessing.  


The next time she gathered all the pieces, he let her go.


End file.
